From: mystikkialynna@aol.com (MystikKialynna)
Date: 29 Dec 1999 14:59:10 EST
(( Author's Note: Several have asked for the SL between Mysty and Mel to be posted. Took a while, but we are finally going to catch up on it and post new parts as they happen. It will pretty much been done with posts from both their perspectives. Copper and a few others may also be posting on this SL as they come into the different parts. We ask that those who read enjoy, and please mail us comments
and questions rather than posting them in the posted SL. Right now we are trying to catch it up to the present, so please be patient. And now...Phoenix Flame....Kathy))
She sat thinking, her mind drifting over the past months. So much has happened, has changed. Not only her life, but her perceptions. How she thought things would be.
They were so happy, or so she thought. Yes, they had been busy, she with work, Andi, the preparations for the babe to come. He with dueling, work in the Gardens. They were together every available moment, but still something had crept in and broken the dream they were living, turning it into a humiliating nightmare for both. They tried, even after the fact, to continue to make it work. Then it had all become so public. This had been the last she
could take. Not only to know such herself, but for others to know as well. Her hurt turned to raging anger, her pride to humiliated embarrassment. She knew he was hurting too, that this had caused as much pain to him as it had to her. She couldn't see past her own pain, her own anger and outrage. She was broken, as broken as the dream.
She continued to frequent the places she had before outside of work. The Arena and Isle, while she was working she could hide behind that, not have to face the looks, the whispers. Off duty the feeling of watching eyes, whispers, real or imagined, made her want to sink into a hole and vanish. She began sinking all right, further into herself, the flame of spirit within her dim and hidden. Her voice became a mere whisper to the few she spoke with.
Her head lowered, not the strong woman she had become, but once more the frightened, shy, embarrassed girl who first found refuge in Rhydin.
How he had taunted her. At first she merely accepted his taunts, letting them validate what she already knew. She was weak, defeated, her pride in herself gone. Yet for some reason he had championed her on the Isle that night, with his words and manner had made plain that the wrong done had been noted and would not be allowed to just pass.
That night in the Arena he kept taunting, not bothering to lower his voice as he did so. He mocked her, his words cutting through the protective shell. Pride was the first to flare to life. With stiff dignity she excused herself, making for the stairs. This too he mocked and sneered at. Running away she was, and he knew it. The flames within her blazed to life, she turned on him with a warning growl, but still he kept on. He would not let her
wallow in the confused tangle of emotions any longer. Her head raised, meeting his eyes. She gave back what he had been dishing out. Weakly at first, then with growing self pride and determination that she would not be mocked for what had not been her fault. As she met his eyes again, it hit her. This was his intent. Not to make sport or humiliate her further, but to make the flames come to life again, even if in anger.
He offered friendship. Coming to find her at the Inn as she sat talking with her sister, they talked further. On the verge of sealing this odd friendship, the shadow touch of his ungloved hand hovered above hers for a moment, the flame's heat of hers reaching out to accept it. But again, words, differences caused clash between the two. In part, they cleared up the misunderstanding caused by differences in their cultures. He was called away,
leaving with the promise to explain a part of his life to her later, then if they could both still accept, friendship was still offered.
Explain he did, and with that explanation came a better understanding. That night they met at the Arena. His offer of seat at his table honoring her, but still she was wary. Why would he offer friendship, much less offer his company in the view of so many? After everything that had happened in her life recently, the whispers of others. He had always kept so much to himself and those of his House, yet here he sat, with her. Accepting his offer of
friendship, a friend she badly needed at the moment, she again offered her hand to bind the odd seeming alliance. He tugged the glove from his hand. Still warning her of the coldness of his ungloved touch. His hand hovering over hers, feeling the heat reach out to the shadows. She told him in those moments of the legends told to her as long as she could remember. The connection and bond between shadow and flame. The flame drawing the shadows, warming
and lightening them. The shadow wrapping around the flame, softening and enhancing it. One was not complete without the other, though each could stand alone.
As she spoke, his hand lowered to hers. His touch as cold as he had foretold, hers as warm. Carefully, watching those shadow filled eyes, the flame drew the shadows nearer, warming them. He drew back as the shadows began to recede from him, to be drawn to the flame. He looked at her, saw the lack of fear or pain in her eyes. In his she saw a flicker of something...was that surprise? He told of how none could bear his ungloved touch, not even
those of his family. She felt the cold of the shadows, she told him this, but told him too that the two were created to exist together. Without one, the other is left alone. Not as defined. She trusted him not to turn the shadows on the flame, to engulf and extinguish it. Offering her hand once more, she asked his trust that she would not draw his shadows from him, but only allow her flame to warm them a little, define them a little more. His hand
met hers, this time his eyes meeting hers as well. As their palms touched, friendship and the beginning of trust was born. With the drawing away of hands, the glove returned to his, they sealed the journey of discovery between Shadow and Flame.
Phoenix Flame ( SL~ Melgarth & Mystik)
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From: melgarth@aol.com (Melgarth)
Date: 06 Jan 2000 02:00:50 EST
He sat at his table so many nights in the duels, watching the goings on as one of few people he showed any respect to continued to treat his wife so poorly. Sure, he had watched his fellow House and team members bed woman after woman at their convenience, but not a single one of them claimed commitment to anyone other than themselves and the House. How one could claim he only held love for her and yet
give himself to so many was beyond him. Mel knew he wasn't as worldly with women as he was with a sword, he had never devoted much time to giving affection, it had only stood in the way of his ambitions and his constant training. However, the actions were too much, he could no longer hold the respect for this man that he once held. He also had troubles of his own; a woman whom he had only met recently claimed she loved him. Is it possible for
feelings to develop that quickly? Apparently so, but they were very fickle as she claimed them for more than one other in a three day span, and there were rumors of also being with the one who he had until so recently held in such high esteem. He was asked to meet her one night on the isle, and although he didn't return the feelings she claimed she felt, he was still very shamed as she proclaimed her love for another man to one she fought that
night. He left the isle as she was continuing a fight with her loved one's son. He just as easily left behind any thought of being around the one whom proclaimed her love for whoever happened to be closest at the moment. Unfortunately, she continued to haunt the places he had become so accustomed to spending his time, and, he realized, it wasn't only himself who felt the haunting. On the isle, it was another who was in misery. Apparently, the
woman who proclaimed her love so easily had also given herself to the one jaunting about the isle while his wife worked. In one of the dueling rings that night, he decided to proclaim to everyone how he saw things. He denounced her publicly for the things she had done. He decided that was not enough to make up for sitting idly by while things he disagreed with went on. There was nothing he could do about the things already done, but he could try
to diminish their effects.
A few nights later, he saw the one who had been publicly humiliated by her husband. Again, she was wallowing in her own self-pity. It wasn't something he cared to see, self-pity would not get her anywhere, especially not over what was happening to her. So he decided to cut through it the only way he knew. He threw insult after insult, attempting to get her to lose the pity and see what most others would if they could find a path to lead their
head from their arse. She did not force the man into another woman's arms, he had chosen his own path. Some how, she still accepted the insults and turned the other cheek. Was this the same person he had seen so many nights on the isle and in the arena come to heated words over almost nothing? He decided to continue, even as she walked away he berated her for being too afraid to face the facts. She finally found some dignity and turned to face
him, a flicker of the fire she formerly kept at a blaze. He kept on, and she began to fight back, merely words, but it was a start. He attempted friendship after the fires cooled slightly, the harsh words dying out as he now tried to make her think more of things going on around her than about herself and her woes. She could not understand at first, why he said the things he did and then turned about as quickly and asked for her friendship. They
spoke again and again, her finally accepting his offer of friendship, but only by the shaking of hands. He had not touched any other's bare skin, unless in battle, in quite some time. He had taken life force from another being's body with his cold touch, he had locked hands with a vampire, each attempting to take the other's life through that touch. How could he touch one that he wanted to be friends with? Would the same thing happen, though he
was not attempting to? He found himself with his bare hand almost touching hers when she said something that struck fear into his heart. It was a difference of cultures in reality, but the possibility! He left quickly, promising to explain, but without ever binding the friendship. Later, after explanations were given and his fears and hatred had subsided, the friendship was sealed. To his surprise, not only did she not flinch at his touch, but
he was actually warmed by hers, her magic seeping into him, the flames flickering inside her seemed to be sucking the shadows out of him. He pulled back quickly, unaware that this could be done. The shadows were an ability he had always had, how could one draw them away from him? But it was not what he thought. They weren't being drained, only lightened and enhanced, gaining power, though being lessened. It seemed he had more to learn than he
thought about his old abilities and newfound friend. And thus it began…..
Date: 06 Jan 2000 02:00:50 EST
He sat at his table so many nights in the duels, watching the goings on as one of few people he showed any respect to continued to treat his wife so poorly. Sure, he had watched his fellow House and team members bed woman after woman at their convenience, but not a single one of them claimed commitment to anyone other than themselves and the House. How one could claim he only held love for her and yet
give himself to so many was beyond him. Mel knew he wasn't as worldly with women as he was with a sword, he had never devoted much time to giving affection, it had only stood in the way of his ambitions and his constant training. However, the actions were too much, he could no longer hold the respect for this man that he once held. He also had troubles of his own; a woman whom he had only met recently claimed she loved him. Is it possible for
feelings to develop that quickly? Apparently so, but they were very fickle as she claimed them for more than one other in a three day span, and there were rumors of also being with the one who he had until so recently held in such high esteem. He was asked to meet her one night on the isle, and although he didn't return the feelings she claimed she felt, he was still very shamed as she proclaimed her love for another man to one she fought that
night. He left the isle as she was continuing a fight with her loved one's son. He just as easily left behind any thought of being around the one whom proclaimed her love for whoever happened to be closest at the moment. Unfortunately, she continued to haunt the places he had become so accustomed to spending his time, and, he realized, it wasn't only himself who felt the haunting. On the isle, it was another who was in misery. Apparently, the
woman who proclaimed her love so easily had also given herself to the one jaunting about the isle while his wife worked. In one of the dueling rings that night, he decided to proclaim to everyone how he saw things. He denounced her publicly for the things she had done. He decided that was not enough to make up for sitting idly by while things he disagreed with went on. There was nothing he could do about the things already done, but he could try
to diminish their effects.
A few nights later, he saw the one who had been publicly humiliated by her husband. Again, she was wallowing in her own self-pity. It wasn't something he cared to see, self-pity would not get her anywhere, especially not over what was happening to her. So he decided to cut through it the only way he knew. He threw insult after insult, attempting to get her to lose the pity and see what most others would if they could find a path to lead their
head from their arse. She did not force the man into another woman's arms, he had chosen his own path. Some how, she still accepted the insults and turned the other cheek. Was this the same person he had seen so many nights on the isle and in the arena come to heated words over almost nothing? He decided to continue, even as she walked away he berated her for being too afraid to face the facts. She finally found some dignity and turned to face
him, a flicker of the fire she formerly kept at a blaze. He kept on, and she began to fight back, merely words, but it was a start. He attempted friendship after the fires cooled slightly, the harsh words dying out as he now tried to make her think more of things going on around her than about herself and her woes. She could not understand at first, why he said the things he did and then turned about as quickly and asked for her friendship. They
spoke again and again, her finally accepting his offer of friendship, but only by the shaking of hands. He had not touched any other's bare skin, unless in battle, in quite some time. He had taken life force from another being's body with his cold touch, he had locked hands with a vampire, each attempting to take the other's life through that touch. How could he touch one that he wanted to be friends with? Would the same thing happen, though he
was not attempting to? He found himself with his bare hand almost touching hers when she said something that struck fear into his heart. It was a difference of cultures in reality, but the possibility! He left quickly, promising to explain, but without ever binding the friendship. Later, after explanations were given and his fears and hatred had subsided, the friendship was sealed. To his surprise, not only did she not flinch at his touch, but
he was actually warmed by hers, her magic seeping into him, the flames flickering inside her seemed to be sucking the shadows out of him. He pulled back quickly, unaware that this could be done. The shadows were an ability he had always had, how could one draw them away from him? But it was not what he thought. They weren't being drained, only lightened and enhanced, gaining power, though being lessened. It seemed he had more to learn than he
thought about his old abilities and newfound friend. And thus it began…..
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From: mystikkialynna@aol.com (MystikKialynna)
Date: 10 Jan 2000 23:02:14 EST
Oh, but they struck sparks off each other! Each still uneasy with the other. Trust was not coming peacefully for these two so different, opposites. She continued to join him at his House's table, a privilege offered to few occasionally. To her it was offered as her place as his friend. Wary of accepting, she would sit alone, until he issued the invitation again. Slowly she became comfortable with it.
But at words and with lack of ease between them, she would leave, returning to sit alone. How cutting he could be at times. She sought nothing from him save friendship. Many noticed this new alliance and commented. How many times they made clear to the other this was no more or less than friendship, neither wanted more. Pride was cut many times with words heated, yet chilled, with confusion.
Yet still he extended invitation, to join his table, to share a glass of wine, to watch him duel. She accompanied him to the Tower, the team was to duel the first time this season. She sat there alone, quiet as he joined his family and team, feeling very uncomfortable and out of place at lack of greeting from his father. When time came that she had to return home to change her new gown for uniform, she approached him as quietly as possible.
Thanking him for the invitation and evening, bidding him farewell. The eyes of his father, were they disapproving, as she spoke with him unnerved her. The carriage taking her home, she changed, taking up her duties for the eve, her thoughts resting on the disapproval she felt, real or imagined.
They spoke the next eve on the Isle. She had sat again at another table. This angered and insulted him. Again words flew almost as soon as she joined him. She knew the pride of his House, felt beneath him. She felt his father disapproved of the friendship. She told him she would not join him at another match. That she did not belong at his table. As anger cooled he told her again she was his friend and he choose that. That if she did not want his
friendship to go, run like she always did. Glaring at him, she sat. He was so arrogant, so stiff with pride. Didn't he understand, she did not want to cast even a shadow of taint on him? She valued his friendship, but didn't want to anger his father. Before the end of the eve, they had once more reached truce.
Date: 10 Jan 2000 23:02:14 EST
Oh, but they struck sparks off each other! Each still uneasy with the other. Trust was not coming peacefully for these two so different, opposites. She continued to join him at his House's table, a privilege offered to few occasionally. To her it was offered as her place as his friend. Wary of accepting, she would sit alone, until he issued the invitation again. Slowly she became comfortable with it.
But at words and with lack of ease between them, she would leave, returning to sit alone. How cutting he could be at times. She sought nothing from him save friendship. Many noticed this new alliance and commented. How many times they made clear to the other this was no more or less than friendship, neither wanted more. Pride was cut many times with words heated, yet chilled, with confusion.
Yet still he extended invitation, to join his table, to share a glass of wine, to watch him duel. She accompanied him to the Tower, the team was to duel the first time this season. She sat there alone, quiet as he joined his family and team, feeling very uncomfortable and out of place at lack of greeting from his father. When time came that she had to return home to change her new gown for uniform, she approached him as quietly as possible.
Thanking him for the invitation and evening, bidding him farewell. The eyes of his father, were they disapproving, as she spoke with him unnerved her. The carriage taking her home, she changed, taking up her duties for the eve, her thoughts resting on the disapproval she felt, real or imagined.
They spoke the next eve on the Isle. She had sat again at another table. This angered and insulted him. Again words flew almost as soon as she joined him. She knew the pride of his House, felt beneath him. She felt his father disapproved of the friendship. She told him she would not join him at another match. That she did not belong at his table. As anger cooled he told her again she was his friend and he choose that. That if she did not want his
friendship to go, run like she always did. Glaring at him, she sat. He was so arrogant, so stiff with pride. Didn't he understand, she did not want to cast even a shadow of taint on him? She valued his friendship, but didn't want to anger his father. Before the end of the eve, they had once more reached truce.